Indifference
by LeonaWriter
Summary: It is said that the opposite of Love is not Hate, since you still must feel something, and the two are so intertwined. Instead, it is Indifference.


An outsider would assume that they had no heart, revelling among themselves in the great halls of Asgard's palace mere hours after their Prince had been lost to them, but if such a theoretical outsider had graced their halls and spoken such words, the mighty Thor would have seen to it that they knew the folly of their speech.

Smiles were forced, some through genuine remorse for the events which had transpired, others merely from fear for the future. Tales were told, and laughter rang, yet it was just as often a tale of the lost, or one told to avoid bringing up the obvious, which caused such apparent joy.

Regardless of recent events, Loki had still been their prince, and had been for centuries. He had grown up in their palace, in their streets and in their gardens, and not a one of them could not recall at least one memory, for good or for ill, of the younger prince's mischief. He had ever been a force of chaos, and had touched them all in some way or other. They mourned his loss, just as they rejoiced in the return of the All-Father's eldest.

Thor himself had been easily distracted throughout the feast, reminded of his brother by the empty space that had been his at the table, expecting jibes and reproofs for his table manners, a snide remark here or there aimed at his friends as he regaled them with tales of his time on Midgard - yet nothing came.

He still could not understand what had made his brother act in such a way during his absence, and their father's sleep. Despite everything, he still could not understand - but did it matter any more, when Loki himself was no longer alive? Surely it would be better to remember him well.

And yet, as he tried to sleep that night, and many nights after, all he could see was his brother's face, hand still reaching out from holding on, eyes dead with some resignation, fading from their reach.

Odin, he knew, rarely spoke of their loss, but Thor could see that he, too, was not left unchanged. There was a distant ache that only they, and Thor's mother, could truly understand.

From Heimdall, Thor only would ask news of Jane. There was no good in asking of one gone to either Hela or Valhalla.  
...

When a great threat arose and the Midgardians found a way to transport him back to their realm, he took the chance. At the very least, he would be able to see Jane again - and he did.

He had not counted on being enlisted into a team to fight the threat upon their realm, but although it took some time and roughening out at the edges for their team to come together and work properly, he had never been averse to the idea.

Months came and went, which only added to those he had spent in Asgard, until he realised one day that it had been a full year since the fateful day that he had regained his power and lost his brother.

The thought caused him to be out of sorts all of the day, quick to temper and slow to apologise, leading to a long list of the latter the next day.

He was asked his reasoning on his bad mood, and the truth was drawn out of him like an arrow bolt- painful, yet necessary. Jane had frowned at his explanation of what had occurred in Asgard after he had left her, doubtless swayed by events into the idea that his brother was a bad person, but had come around in time to the idea that, regardless what else had gone on between them, Loki had been Thor's little brother, and whatever else may have gone on between them, nothing changed that, and nothing ever would.

Thankfully, the Avengers did not react much differently.

Life had gone on, and the pain had dulled once more to a dull ache that resided within him, and he could learn to live with. It was, he had learned, easier now that the others both knew and understood.

Enemies still needed to be dealt with, and the Avengers were nearly always on call for something, and yet there was always time to be found in order to do normal things, such as discover what kind of place New York was when the city was not being destroyed.

It was on one such trip that the extraordinary happened.

He saw Loki's face in the crowd.

This was normal - he saw Loki everywhere, in the tilt of someone's head or the swirl of their coat, there were always things that caused him to hope, despite all knowledge, that his brother had somehow survived. And then he would notice the details, and his hopes would be, yet again, dashed.

This time, though - this time-!

There could be no doubt that it was his face. It had his pale skin, his features, his eyes - even from a distance he could see that vibrant green - his hair, styled back like it always had been - that smile, a smile he had thought he would never be able to see again.

His brother was wearing odd clothing, in the native Midgardian styles, nothing too different from what any of the others he could see were wearing, yet it looked strange indeed on Loki, who he had never seen wearing anything other than the utmost of formality, even the one time he had seen his brother on Midgard before, during his banishment.

And he was heading Thor's way. Thor didn't know what to do, what to say, what did you say to the brother who had inexplicably, miraculously, been brought back to life in front of your very eyes after more than a year? And yet if he did not do something, he would lose him, lose that chance, forever.

"...Brother?" No response. They were close. So close. "Brother!" Still nothing. Why? Why would he not respond?

He took a hold of Loki's arm, not out of anger but desperation and fear, both that he could be right and that he could be wrong.

"Brother... Loki?"

Loki fought against the grip, and looked over Thor with an unreadable expression.

"You must have been mistaken," Loki says, and Thor knows that it is assuredly him, it is his voice as well as his mannerisms as well as everything else, "I believe you've chosen wrongly." And yet, Loki could well have been speaking in a language unintelligible, for all that Thor could understand what was happening. "I don't know you."

Thor stood, stock still, pale, staring at the man. This could not be true.

"Brother, I do not understand. It is I, Thor! You..."

Nothing. There was nothing. And yet Loki's jaw twitched in a familiar way.

"As I said, I fear you are mistaken." Green eyes glanced toward Thor's hand, still on his arm. "Let me go. Please."

"What...?"

There was no way that he could be mistaken. It was unthinkable.

"You're-" Loki's- he would refuse to admit defeat on the point, refuse to accept that this could be anyone other than his brother - his voice hitched, "hurting me. Please. Let me go."

Thor let go, and they stood, staring warily for a minute, until Loki (it couldn't be anyone else, it couldn't) hurried off into the crowd, leaving Thor alone once more amid the millions.  
...

AN: Based off a prompt I saw ages back. 'Hate is not the opposite of Love; it is instead Indifference'.

There will be more of this, and not just from Thor's point of view...


End file.
